


Seven Easy Steps To Eternal Happiness

by zeffyamethyst



Category: Original Work
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeffyamethyst/pseuds/zeffyamethyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The best advice Ollie's grandma gave is this: the only cure for unrequited love is to go out and get laid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Easy Steps To Eternal Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in an anthology. My first attempt at writing pure romance to prove that I could. Apparently my style in romance is snark, obliviousness and fluff in equal amounts.

**April 2009 - Easter**

"What kind of name is, Gertrude?" Ollie wanted to know. The beer was ominously silent. "A horrible one. That's right."

"I rather like it," The Easter Bunny said, and threw back a shot of rum.

Ollie glared. "Your name's Arthur, it's practically a requirement that you like names as boring as yours."

"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, Oliver," Arthur said.

"Ollie! It's Ollie! And why the hell are you still in that suit?"

Arthur looked down. The pink rabbit suit with its adorable green-and-blue polka dot vest was bunched around Arthur's small frame now that he had removed the pillow stuffing. "It's warm," he said with a shrug.

"You look like an idiot," Ollie said, picking up an ice cube with his fingers and slipping it into his mouth. He was too occupied dealing with the consequent droplets of water to notice the considering look Arthur sent him. "Anyway, back to Gertrude."

"All right, who's Gertrude," Arthur asked obediently, and couldn't have sounded less interested. That was fine. Ollie didn't ask him out to drinks because Arthur gave a shit. They'd only met that morning when Ollie went to pick up his own Easter Bunny suit for a fun-filled day of being mauled by the vicious, greedy pack of monsters people affectionately referred to as children. Arthur was assigned to another nearby mall, and had commiserated with Ollie on the horrid nature of their job.

They'd met again after Ollie returned the suit. And that might have been that—small talk, more commiseration, then polite farewells—if not for a phone call Ollie received half way through their conversation. After that, Ollie needed a drink, a willing ear, and Arthur was the nearest person.

"Gertrude is the bane of my existence," Ollie explained.

"Is that so?" Arthur said, signalling the bartender for another shot.

Ollie nodded hard, then had to stop because it felt like his head might snap off. He was, maybe, a little tipsy. "Yes," he hiccoughed, "Yes she is. She's a—a cockblocking bane of my, uh, cock."

Okay, a lot tipsy.

"Dare I ask how?" Arthur sounded amused.

"Cos John's with her! And, we're supposed to do Easter! We aways do Easter together, him and me." Ollie finished his—he peered into his glass—beer? Yes, beer, and waved for more. "We do, like, the best lamb roast."

There was a long pause during which Ollie got his beer and managed to screw up opening a packet of peanuts. He hadn't wanted them anyway.

"Okay, and what's that got to do with cock?" Arthur asked finally.

If Ollie had been slightly more sober, he might not have said what he said next. "Cos I want John's but she's got it, and that sucks." Ollie considered. "Not...suck. It doesn't suck. Which sucks."

Arthur shifted around on the barstool and stared very hard at Ollie, a favour Ollie returned. "Wait, wait, wait, so you and John are..." Arthur made twiddly finger movements. "And he's with some chick?"

"Nooooooooo," Ollie denied, shaking his head. "No, but I want him to be, y'know."

"Ah. Unrequited love. That is a pickle. Next round's on me." Arthur's hand was heavy on Ollie's shoulder.

"Unrequited love? Fuck that. I'd be happy with just his dick," Ollie sighed. "God, I want to suck cock tonight." He nodded at the bartender who was lucky enough to walk in on the tail end of that. The bartender only smiled and set down another beer. God bless the man.

Arthur said nothing to any of that—stunned speechless, Ollie reckoned—and they sat silently as Arthur chugged another shot and Ollie cradled his beer. Ollie was a quarter of the way through that beer when Arthur pushed away from the bar. Oh, there it was, Ollie thought, almost boredly. "So, guess I'll—"

"C'mon," Arthur interrupted, throwing a a stack of notes onto the bar.

Ollie blinked, his mouth half-opened on a farewell. "...What?" he finished, confused.

"Lemme drop this off," Arthur said as he pulled at the collar of his bunny suit, "then my place is right around the corner."

"What?" Ollie repeated.

Arthur sighed, and looked at him all exasperated. "You want to suck cock. I want to get my cock sucked. You see where I'm going with this?"

Ollie considered all the ways in which this was stupid. He was halfway to smashed, this was a guy he just met today, he had work tomorrow, and, oh yeah, _he was halfway to smashed_. Then he thought, fuck it. "Yeah, okay," he said.

He took a long sip of the beer, reducing it to two thirds, and followed Arthur out the door.

 

***

 

**October 2009 - Halloween**

"Fucking Amelia!"

"Fucking Irene!" Arthur yelled, at a volume just shy of Ollie's.

"Who's Irene?" Ollie asked, shaken out of his indignation by confusion.

Arthur unzipped his pumpkin suit and let it drop to the floor. The costume was voluminous and made of thick cotton, and after a whole day in it, Arthur was sweating like a pig. "No idea," he replied as he swiped back sweat-slicked hair from his forehead, "I thought we were just cursing random girls."

"I wish. John's new girl," Ollie snorted, throwing his costume into a corner. Being Casper the ghost was only marginally better than being a pumpkin. Although he wasn't sweating as much as Arthur, he still felt like a walking deodorant commercial.

"Fascinating," Arthur said blandly. He was smiling though, so who the hell knew what he really thought.

Ever since that fateful Easter holiday, Arthur and Ollie had worked together a few more times at the same mall gig, and hung out more. And 'hung out' even more. So Ollie had a good idea of when Arthur was joking, and when he was being a narky bitch. This was the former, he was sure, but it could easily have been the latter, and Ollie...well, Ollie knew shutting up was always the best option when you weren't one hundred percent positive.

And anyway, by the time they were back in their civvies and ensconced in the nearest bar with the rest of the Halloween Mall Crew 2009, Ollie had forgotten all about his woes. Until his fifth beer.

"Her name's Amelia! Like, like that doll chick from that book. The really, like, bitchy one," Ollie said morosely. "But she's not bitchy! She's sooooo fucking nice. And she makes the best cookies, and she saves some for me. I hate her."

"Yes, how dare she be decent," Arthur deadpanned, taking a sip of wine. Only Arthur would go to a bar in a Metallica concert t-shirt and worn out jeans with holes in the knees, and then order wine.

"I reckon!" Ollie agreed. "Making me cookies. The bitch."

Arthur made a noise of agreement. "So what tradition did John break to be with her?" he asked, and even sounded mildly curious.

"Trick or Treat! We always go trick or treating. He's Hulk and I'm Batman. Then afters? We binge on sugar for a week. It's awesome."

Arthur took a deep breath and shook his head. "Grown men, dressing up to beg for candy from strangers. Inspiring."

"Says the great Halloween Pumpkin," Ollie snorted.

"Selling your body for money is a perfectly legitimate venture," Arthur said primly.

Ollie toasted him. "Too right. Outta curiosity, how much would that body cost me?" he asked, grinning. Best cure for a broken heart was a good fuck, Ollie's ma had once said, bless her heart, and it hadn't lead Ollie wrong yet.

Smirking, Arthur said, "Another glass of wine."

"I can do that," promised Ollie.

"Good. You can buy it after we're done," Arthur said, and slid off his seat. He leaned into Ollie, and said in a low voice that immediately made Ollie's mouth dry, "Make it a zinfandel and I'll let you fuck my mouth first. Deal?"

Unsurprisingly, Ollie's voice was hoarse when he said, "deal."

 

 ***

 

**February 2010 - Valentine**

A toga wasn't the worst thing Ollie had been asked to wear for his side-job as a mall bitch, but it was the one that made him feel the most naked. Even with underwear. He'd swear he'd been checked out by at least five old ladies, three middle-aged men, and twelve teenagers of both genders.

"So, does this one have a name?"

With his toga hanging off his waist, the wings still annoying the hell out of him, Ollie turned to look at Arthur. Arthur hadn't been on today—that humiliation was reserved for tomorrow and you betcha Ollie was going to bring his camera to work—but he'd appeared in the dressing room thirty minutes after Ollie text him with a very eloquent 'u doin anythin 2nite? pub quiz, tabs 4 winna.' And they'd been chatting about random shit while Ollie changed.

"Who? What name?" Ollie asked, shoving one of the wings back with a vicious elbow jab.

"Whoever's stolen John away from your precious holiday traditions," Arthur said, smiling.

Ollie rolled his eyes. "You joking? We don't do Valentine's day. That'd just be..." He shrugged, a little awkwardly. God, Valentines day with John would be the epitome of awful. Awful and full of alcohol, which with Ollie's luck would lead to more awful, but of the friendship breaking kind.

"But you want to. You want to kiss him and hug him and fuck him," said Arthur, still looking incredibly amused.

"You," Ollie said, stabbing a finger at Arthur, "You're an asshole. Total asshole."

"Guilty," Arthur admitted, so cheerful it hurt. "So if you don't have plans with John, why was my presence requested?"

"Uh. Cos we're friends?" Ollie suggested. "What, we can't hang out?"

Ollie might have called Arthur's smile fond, if he didn't know first hand how much disdain Arthur had for every single member of the human race. Arthur, he'd learn, was like a cat; only charming when they wanted something. "Oliver Maxwell, when was the last time you called me just to 'hang out', hmm?"

"Three weeks ago. You helped me move in to my new place."

"We fucked on your new couch. Booty calls don't count," Arthur countered quickly.

Ollie briefly gave Arthur a pitying look as he struggled into his jeans. "You were emotionally scarred as a child weren't you? Face it, Arthur, we're actually friends," Ollie said, zipping up. "And we're gonna hang out now and win that bloody tab."

"Do we have to?" Arthur groaned.

Ollie pulled his shirt on, ruffled his hair for that messy just out of bed look, and said firmly, "Yes. And you'll like it."

"...Fine. Can we at least have sex after?" Arthur said gloomily.

"Oh my God, you emotionally stunted wanker. Will it make you stop bitching if I say 'yes'? Hold on, never mind," Ollie added quickly, "nothing makes you stop. Less bitching?"

Arthur very coolly flipped him off and stalked out the door. "Not even a little?" Ollie called after him.

 

***

 

**December 2010 - Christmas**

"I think I have a boyfriend."

Ollie was so surprised by how steady Arthur's voice is that the words don't register at first. When they do, he considered all the possible responses available to him as he kept up the tight suction around Arthur's dick and took it in deep as he could go. Above him, Arthur's breath stuttered, and his hand in Ollie's hair tightened, and Ollie slowly slid back, not stopping when he came to the tip and pulled off with a wet pop. He sat back on his heel, one hand still wrapped around the base of Arthur's dick.

"Is now really a good time?" he asked, licking his lips to demonstrate his point.

Arthur's eyes held fast to Ollie's lips as he replied, slightly more breathless than before, "Just remembered now."

"That's what you were thinking about? Just then. Should I be insulted?" Ollie asked, lazily stroking Arthur because he was a good boy and not in the habit of wasting things; like perfectly hard cocks.

"Shut up," Arthur told him, and reached down to run a hand through Ollie's hair. "We can talk about it later. Now, get back to work." And pulled at the strands of hair trapped in his fingers.

Ollie went willingly. Good sex was not to be interrupted for anything.

One blow job and a leisurely fuck later, Ollie was sprawled out on the bed, watching Arthur dry himself after a horrendously short shower—Ollie strongly believed in having showers lasting at least ten minutes with water as hot as you could get it. "Boyfriend, huh?"

"I think," Arthur replied, throwing the towel onto the bed.

"You should ask him," Ollie advised. Arthur made a noise in reply that didn't commit one way or the other, and continued to get dressed. They both had a gig this afternoon, at the same mall actually; Arthur was a Christmas Elf, and Ollie was Santa. Apparently Arthur was too small to be a believable Santa, which Ollie will never fail to find hilarious.

"What if he says agrees though?" Arthur said suddenly.

"Um, then you have a new boyfriend? Congratulations? It's a good thing, Arthur," Ollie said gently. Arthur had intimacy issues about as wide as the Aegean sea, and the emotional maturity of a sloth. Ollie, whether he wanted to be or not, was now apparently Arthur's Jimminy Cricket.

"What about you?" It sounded casual enough, but there was no reason Arthur had to dig around in his closet for that long; it was the size of a locker for Christ's sake. Thankfully, Ollie wasn't as oblivious as Arthur, to him it was clear as day what was wrong.

"What about me?" Ollie echoed with a laugh. "Don't worry bout it, mate. I'll be fine on my lonesome. John's booked me for all of next month's weekends anyway. Pub crawls."

Arthur still hadn't turned around and his voice had a hollow, strangled quality as he said, "Of course. How could I forget about your epic unrequited love?"

"It's not epic," Ollie corrected, rolling his eyes.

"Liar," Arthur said, and finally twisted around to throw Ollie a bright, sarcastic smile. Ollie nearly sighed in relief at the familiar sight. "You've already told me how long you've wanted in his pants, remember?"

"Not so you can throw it back in my face. Asshole. 'Sides, he's been with Paula for ages. Said she might be the one."

Arthur sat down on the bed, his hip pushing against Ollie's thigh, a hand on Ollie's chest. "Poor baby," he said, and it sounded sincere. Well, sincere enough for Arthur, which wasn't much by polite society's standards.

"Whatever." Ollie shrugged. He turned onto his side, curling a little around Arthur. "Probably 'bout time I got over it anyway. It's pathetic, isn't it, waiting for him to notice me back. Waste of time. I should be doing what you're doing. Going out, finding someone who actually likes me back. You know, give that whole 'mutual feelings' thing a whirl for kicks."

"You're adorable. You go do that and I'll save you a bottle of wine. Come back when the world lets you down, hmm?" Arthur said, patting his head in the most condescending manner, and even knowing Arthur was taking the piss, Ollie grinned. Arthur had his back.

"You know, you should ask your maybe-boyfriend if he's into threesomes," Ollie suggested. "It'd save me the trouble of finding another fuck buddy."

Ollie, plus most of the sheets, ended up on the floor after Arthur was done with him, and it was totally worth it just for the look on Arthur's face.

 

***

 

**March 2011 - Easter**

"Can I keep him?" Ollie asked, maybe drooling a little.

"How shocking," Arthur said, staring after his boyfriend. "It seems everyone likes him."

Laurie wasn't what Ollie had in mind when he pictured Arthur's boyfriend. Mostly, Ollie had imagined someone just like Arthur; an unwitting hipster who drank expensive french wine in his boxers, and read Marx and Twilight one after the other just to stave off the boredom and to piss off the 'real' hipsters. Someone who would argue equally fervently about the death penalty and apple pie versus pecan pie because they were equally important to him. Laurie was none of those things. He was the sweetest little twink Ollie had ever met outside of a porno. He was a little shorter than Arthur, with the cutest mop of dark blond hair and a mouth a hooker would have envied. He was also as naive as a baby hedgehog and it was all Ollie could do not to reach over and pinch his cheeks at everything he said.

"How the hell did you score someone like that?" Ollie had to ask as they began walking to the bus stand. It had become part of their Friday night routine for Ollie to walk Arthur from the pub to the stand and wait with him. And boyfriend or not, fuck buddies or not, that at least wouldn't change.

The look Ollie received was halfway between amused and annoyed. "Thanks. You're a true friend."

"No, no, no, no, no. I meant, he's—you know..." Ollie decided there was no other way to say it. "Nice."

For a brief moment, Arthur looked as if he wanted to be offended. "You might have a point," he eventually admitted.  "I picked him up at my brother's piano recital. Did you know that he plays the piano as well? And the oboe? And speaks Norwegian."

Ollie was very impressed. "Shit, you really hit the jackpot, Norwegian thing aside; the hell's that about."

Arthur shrugged.

"Yeah well. Keep this one. Guy can actually stand to be around you, which is, y'know, rare." Very rare, as Ollie knew all too well. He'd met five of Arthur's boyfriends to date, and four had ditched after a few weeks of Arthur's special brand of deadpan snark. And one had moved overseas, but not for any reason related to Arthur's impossible standards as far as Ollie could ascertain.

"Mmm." Sitting down on the bus stand bench, Arthur stuffed his hands into his pockets, and blithely said, "I suspect I'll be dumping him soon."

Ollie only wished he could be surprised by that, but all he could muster was an eyeroll as he sat next to Arthur. "Again? What's wrong with this one? Too short? Too tall? Too skinny? Too...what was the other one again? Oh right, too _normal_?"

"No, but given enough time, I'm sure I can find a reason," Arthur said, waving his arm. It came down to rest behind Ollie, a long line of warmth along his back that ended where Arthur's fingers lightly touched his shoulder.

"You're an idiot," Ollie told him, leaning in a little; Christ, but Arthur was ridiculously warm. "And I thought John had the monopoly on that."

Shock and horror, John and Paula hadn't worked out, mainly because John had a major freak out when Paula mentioned moving in together at some nebulous point in the future.

At that, Arthur's face underwent so many expressions Ollie couldn't possibly have named them all, but in the end there was only smug amusement left. "Oh? I finally beat the great John at something, what an achievement," he said, with a peculiar tone of voice Ollie had begun to notice creeping into their conversation a few months ago; usually when they talked about John. It was nothing obvious Ollie could pin down but every time he heard it, he felt like shuffling from feet to feet and giving Arthur a hug. And he had no idea why.

"Uh. I don't think that's something to be proud of," Ollie said finally.

Arthur only rolled his eyes. "Now, more importantly, do you have any plans for tomorrow night?" he asked with a burgeoning grin and gave Ollie a once over that said if he didn't Arthur sure as hell did. And it would be fun.

God, how Ollie wanted to say 'yes'—and that little bit of guilt at the thought of Laurie could go bugger the fuck off—but as the expression went, bros before hos, and John was still in the slumps over Paula. Ollie couldn't just ditch him. "Sorry, old man," Ollie said, "John's booked me for the weekend, to help him get over Paula. Supposedly, I'm there for moral support, but I reckon it's really to bail him out when he gets arrested."

Arthur's face went blank, and that tone came back into his voice, partially covered up by the arrival of the bus. "Of course. Can't forget those holiday traditions." Looking at the bus, Arthur stood up, hand shoved deep into his pocket. Lightly, almost too lightly, he added, "Well, if you ever get sick of being second best, you know where to find me."

Before Ollie could ask what the hell that meant, Arthur was boarding the bus.

 

***

 

**October 2011 - Halloween**

"What d'ya mean you don't dance?" Surprisingly, the question came from Arthur. Who knew that a dour, deadpan, part time mall mummy, part time uni student could waltz? And foxtrot. And swing. And cha-cha. And dip a girl like she was a bag of rice. Arthur was full of surprises, and a lot of alcohol too, going by the beer bottles littering his part of the table. Arthur was Ollie's plus one to the wedding, which had gotten him raised eyebrows from Arthur and John both, though for different reasons; neither one of which Ollie was going to even attempt to decipher.

"I didn't say I don't dance. I said I can't," Ollie corrected, just a tad grumpily. Arthur had been acting strange all evening; jumping from table to table, person to person, chatting easily with a smile so big Ollie couldn't stand to look at him for long. But it wasn't just this evening, Arthur had changed since that conversation at the bus stop, and everything had been awkward between them. He just wished he knew how to approach the the topic with Arthur.

Arthur had to know it was there; the big fat unnamed pink elephant in the room that broke the easy, comfortable relationship they had developed. It was present when Ollie told Arthur about the crazy Biology professor who brought his pet owl into every lecture; looming when they went out for drinks just the two of them; and lurking when Ollie fucked Arthur slow and deliberate until Arthur grew impatient and shoved back with a small, always muffled gasp. But whenever Ollie came even so much as close to thinking about asking, Arthur found a way to deflect.

Like now, as if Arthur could see the thoughts forming behind Ollie's eyes, he laughed loudly,  dragging every single unoccupied eye to their table. "Oliver, my love," Arthur said with a slow smile, "I've seen you at the clubs. I know for a fact you can move your hips."

Looking away, looking at John and Paula dance, Ollie muttered, "Yeah well, that's different." Sneaky bastard. Not much Ollie could do now with the weight of everyone's attention on them and Arthur knew it.

Arthur slid closer, throwing a leg over Ollie's till he was half sitting on his lap, and coyly peered up through his lashes. "And you definitely moved your hips very, very well when you were fucking yourself on me this morning. Hmm?" and oh hell that was a hand brushing over his crotch.

Ollie took a deep breath, reminding himself that his father was one  table over and it didn't matter how okay he was with his only son being a pillow biter, he was not going to be impressed if Ollie threw Arthur over the table and kissed him.  Never mind what Paula would do to him for messing with her wedding. Very real and compelling reasons, all of them, but what really launched Ollie into situation control was John's little cousin at the next table who was staring at them with wide brown five year old eyes. "All right!" he said, practically yelling the words. "Let's get you sober."

"I am perfectly fine," Arthur grumbled as Ollie hauled him upright with a hand around his waist, and another cradling his shoulders. Then Arthur tried to lick Ollie's throat.

They were getting even more looks; luckily, the majority seemed to be amused. Still, Ollie wasn't going to stay and take his chances, not when John's grandfather was a bloody priest. Making noises that appeared to appease Arthur, though the man still wouldn't stop trying to lick every inch of flesh he could reach, Ollie dragged his so very drunk plus one into the hedge maze. In short order, Ollie found a bench that wasn't occupied by couples making out—or worse—and set Arthur down, then promptly collapsed on it himself.

"Christ, you're heavy for a midget," Ollie sighed, rubbing his shoulder.

Arthur's response was to lazily, clumsily crawl onto Ollie's lap, ending up with his legs to either side of Ollie's hips. He then wound his arms around Ollie's neck, and with a small sigh kissed him. Ollie had a hard time refusing Arthur at the best of time—a warm, pliant Arthur who seemed determined to lick every trace of wedding cake out of Ollie's mouth...yeah, he had no chance. It wasn't so much giving in as surrendering and letting Arthur do whatever the hell he wanted.

And what he wanted was to drive Ollie crazy with slow kisses and the deliberate grinding of his hips against Ollie, dragging their clothed arousals against one another again and again until Ollie was pushing up with a low moan. Arthur's approval was apparent in the clenching of his hand on Ollie's shoulder, in the way he threw his head back, biting his lips to keep from making the kind of noises Ollie would have loved to pull out of him given the chance and privacy. For now, Ollie made do with scraping his teeth over Arthur's racing pulse and gripping Arthur by the waist, holding him still to give himself something to thrust up against.

It was both slow and quick, and it was definitely dirty, and when Ollie came it was with a strangled gasp he buried in Arthur's throat. As he caught his breath Arthur rutted against him with increasing desperation that ended in a violent shiver and a shattered moan.

Laughing softly, Ollie pulled Arthur in and kissed him below the ear.  He was originally aiming for Arthur's cheek but whatever.

"Better?" he asked, unable to stop himself kissing Arthur again. It was fucking cold, everyone at the wedding probably knew they were having a quickie, they may or may not have traumatised John's five-year-old cousin, but it was all good because Arthur was in his lap, and orgasms were awesome.

Then he noticed Arthur hadn't said anything, not even to make a sarcastic grunt. Ollie pulled away to look down at Arthur, who wasn't looking back, he realised with a sinking heart. "Arthur, make noises. Speak to me."

When Arthur did, Ollie wished he hadn't pushed. "I don't want to do this anymore," Arthur said flatly.

"Do...what?" Ollie asked.

Arthur squirmed until Ollie let go, standing up the moment he was free. Ollie's arms were still on Arthur's hips but it suddenly felt like there was a whole ocean between them and Ollie had no idea how to close the gap. "You and me," Arthur said, gesturing back and forth. "This whole thing we have going. I don't want—let's just not, okay."

"But." Ollie floundered. Where the hell was this even coming from? Everything was fine, wasn't it? "Is there someone else? Is that why?"

"No. God, it'd be easier if there was," Arthur said with a little laugh. "I just don't think we're going anywhere, and that's not fair for either one of us."

Ollie frowned. "There was somewhere to go?"

"That!" Arthur said, pointing at Ollie. "That's what I'm talking about."

"Huh?"

Arthur only smiled, the kind of smile people wore at funerals. The one that was neither sad nor relieved, but somewhere in between. "You'll figure it out. I expect I'll see you around, Oliver Maxwell." And he leaned in for a kiss; soft and chaste, full of meaning Ollie was too inadequate to translate.

 

***

 

**December 2011 - Christmas**

It took begging, pleading, and bending over for a spanking on a metaphorical level but Ollie was finally scheduled for the same mall as Arthur. Ollie was still Santa Claus, but Arthur had been promoted to Jack Frost.

No doubt Arthur knew, which would explain why he was absent in the change rooms right up until the last minute when he came rushing in, noticeably avoiding Ollie as he changed. That was fine, Ollie was expecting it, and he had a plan ready. It was simple: hide Arthur's prosthetic ears, wait until everyone left and then lock the door. Leaving just the two of them.

It was a commentary on how determinedly Arthur was concentrating on his costume change that he didn't notice anything was wrong until the latch fell into place.

"What the—"

"Point of interest," Ollie interrupted. "When you said you 'didn't want to do this anymore' I wasn't expecting you to drop off the face of the earth." A bit of anger leaked in towards the end, but dammit Ollie wasn't sorry. Would it have killed Arthur to at least send up a flag of 'still alive' once in a while?

Arthur glared, one half of his face still flesh-toned. "We're going to be late, you idiot."

"I'm Santa, they can't exactly start without me," Ollie said rolling his eyes. "Also, getting your friends to answer your phone to tell me to fuck off? Real mature."

"I didn't tell them to say that," Arthur muttered as he folded his arms. With his shirt half done and his hair standing up in tufts, Arthur looked years younger.

"What did you tell them then? C'mon, say it to my face." Ollie challenged.

Arthur got this look on his face when he was going to lie. Ollie rarely saw it as Arthur didn't believe in lying when he could just be a tactless bastard, but it was there now. "I want you to leave me alone."

"Bollocks," Ollie refuted. "Now, tell me the actual reason for getting me off and then ditching me."

"I told you already."

Ollie scoffed. "No, you said a bunch of things that came out of nowhere then left before I could get my wits together."

"I didn't have the hours that would have taken," Arthur said sweetly.

Okay, fuck this, Ollie decided. If Arthur wasn't going to say it, then he would have to. "All right, if you're going to be that way." And Ollie steeled himself. This was going to _hurt_. "You might've told me you were in love with me before kicking me in the nads and running away."

A speechless Arthur was a rare beast. So rare Ollie wanted to take a picture and savour it for years and years to come. "I...I am not!" Arthur also resorted to ten year old rhetorics when he was lying.

"Yeah, you are," Ollie said confidently, daring Arthur to try bullshitting him again.

Arthur's eyes moved between Ollie and the door, and Ollie knew he was considering making a run for it. Ollie casually shifted to fully stand right in front of Arthur. The narrowing of Arthur's eyes told him he guessed right. Ollie smiled. "I didn't run away," Arthur said at last with a defiant tilt of his chin. "It was a strategic retreat."

Ollie kept smiling; it was fun to watch Arthur dig holes for himself.

"And what gave you the idea that I—" Arthur swallowed. He appeared to be having difficulties saying the words.

"That you're in love with me?" Ollie offered. Arthur nodded jerkily. "John."

"Your best friend," Arthur said flatly. "Your male best friend, that you've been in love with forever and ever and ever. Said that, and you what? Just believed him?"

"Sure. He's got a sixth sense about these kinds of things. Seriously! And, I'm not," Ollie added, dangling the bait to see if it caught.

"Not what?" Arthur asked grudgingly, as if he knew what Ollie was doing and hated himself for playing along.

"In love with John. I'd say it was more of a crush, but that's all it was. Just, you know, in case that was part of the reason for the whole 'don't want to do this anymore' thing." Ollie couldn't be a hundred percent sure, but he thought he was starting to understand everything. From Arthur's cryptic comments to that tone to Laurie and all those boyfriends. And when this was over, Ollie was going to go hit his head against a wall and hope that knocked the stupid out of him.

"It really wasn't," Arthur said firmly. "I told you, it just wasn't going anywhere."

Ollie had spent days going over those words again and again, picking them apart, looking for that hidden meaning he just knew was there. As it turned out, it meant exactly what he had first thought. But this time he had an answer.

"Ever thought maybe that's because we were there already?" Ollie asked, swallowing against the rising tide of panic. He could do this, even if it killed his manly soul, he could do this.

Arthur seemed to get it, which was a good thing as Ollie wasn't entirely sure what he was saying. Words and Ollie had never been on good terms, and right now they seemed determined to bury Ollie under incoherency.

Tense and uncomfortable, Arthur said, "That doesn't mean you wanted to be there." With me, went unvoiced.

This time it was Ollie who looked away. "Well, where else would I go? Pretty sure you're it for me." It was meant to come out less nervous than it did, but Ollie couldn't give much of a fuck right now.

Silence. "That was pathetic." Then the sound of footsteps coming close and oh shit, Arthur was pushing him against the door. Ollie recognised the look on his face; it was one Arthur got just before he gave Ollie what was sure to be the best sex of his life.

"Um?" Ollie asked tentatively.

Just like that, the Arthur Ollie knew was back in control; condescending snarkiness and all. "Oliver Maxwell, love of my life," Arthur said in a deadpan voice that didn't quite hide his trepidation. "You're an oblivious idiot."

"What? You could've told me," Ollie defended himself.

Arthur's eyes narrowed, but he said, "Touche. Now, ask me."

And Ollie knew exactly what he meant, but after all the freaking out Arthur put him though, he was going to have some fun with it. "Arthur McRae, love of my life," he said, in as serious a tone as he could manage, "be my naughty, frosty Christmas present to unwrap and to fuck for as long as we both shall live?" And he ran a hand down to grab Arthur's arse.

"I'm going to kill you," Arthur said, but then he was kissing Ollie so it was probably an empty promise.


End file.
